Thursday, February 9, 2012

Lost Forever

. . .   and, the mental version of the cafe

hangs on the wall, void of the sounds

which brought it to life;

its joys and sorrows;

its peculiar circumstances,

like one-day processing, we notice

its affects and grow to expect the service;

like most, we notice what's not available

until the painting erodes and the

sun bleached wall is replaced.

April 1986

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